


it's a beautiful fuckin day

by space_dev



Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/F, Guilt, How Do I Tag, Hurt No Comfort, Nicknames, No Fluff, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 11:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15267036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_dev/pseuds/space_dev
Summary: Veronica was done with this shitshow of a planet.





	it's a beautiful fuckin day

Veronica was absolutely done with this shitshow of a planet.

Guilt had consumed her, and however much she tried to act like she was fine, Heather had begun noticing the little things. Like the dark bags under Veronica's eyes. The blue cardigan she always wore. The scar she saw when Veronica didn't know she was looking. The lack of lunch every day. How she always spent most of lunch in the bathroom, throwing up.

Heather had tried to confront Ver about this, she really did care about her.

But it all went to shit.

There was a shouting match, and Heather's vase of flowers was flung across the room at Veronica and it'd shattered when it hit the wall and it cut Veronica under the eye and she'd just looked McNamara dead in the eye and turned heel and ran out of the room.

Heather didn't find her until the morning, dead and cold inside the tube slide in the park, a piece of college ruled paper sticking out of her cardigan's pocket, the sleeves of the same cardigan sticky and dark.

 _Dear Mickey_ ,

  
Heather smiled a bit at the nickname that had been adopted when Veronica kept calling her McNamara, back when Heather Chandler was alive and the whole clique thing was still going on, so she knew she was addressing the correct Heather, and after they had started dating it'd just become Mickey.

_You're probably really fucking angry at me, and I don't blame you, I'd be too if I was in your position._

_  
It's been rough ever since the bomb, and nobody knows this but me, but Mick, I helped JD with some of those 'suicides' that they figured out were murders. Chandler's suicide? We broke into her house to give her a 'hangover cure' I wanted to make her something that'd taste awful, he gave her drain cleaner, and switched the cups and she died she died and Kurt and Ram? He shot Ram, I shot Kurt. He said that the bullets would only knock them out, make them look like they were dead dead dead so when they woke up they'd be humiliated but he lied. he lied._

_i know that the note made Chandler sound deeper than she was but I know I know i know that she was actually deeper than the mean girl exterior she had just not in the way i portrayed it. she and i had a relationship until it all went to shit at that party and Chandler could've gotten any boy in the school to fuck her but she chose me and she loved me she loved me but i helped kill her._

_i love you, mickey, but this is killing me. i haven't slept in god only knows how long, i'm cutting every day, and every day i just wanna die, every second of every day. it's not your fault, love, but i've gots to go. pray that i don't run into j.d. in hell._

_  
the last thing i did before i started actually slitting my wrists (i'm just waiting to bleed out as i write this) was order my yearbook and send in my senior quote. remember after prom after we had sex when we brainstormed senior quotes? i finally figured mine out. the yearbook will be delivered to your house, get me all the signatures i never needed, even ms. fleming can sign if she wants. and if they give you my graduation cap, get martha to do the starry night in sharpie like we decided on the movie night we had._

_don't look at my senior quote until graduation, okay? i love you so fucking much, mick. i won't forget prom or all the nights we spent together when i'm burning up in hell with j.d._

_one last thing. bury that fucking red scrunchie with me, dearest._

Heather looked at Veronica, in a perpetual sleep, the cut above her eye from last night scabbed over, blood staining the eye-straining yellow paint of the fucking tube slide, Veronica’s shoes discarded across the gravel by the monkey bars where a rope waited in case bleeding out hadn't worked for Veronica and she screamed.

-

graduation came along, and old ms. Fleming arranged for Mickey to receive Veronica's diploma, and she decorated Veronica's hat, too, with the sharpie recreation of Starry Night, just like she'd wanted.

and finally, she turned the pages of her yearbook to the senior pages, and found Veronica between to Sea, Lysol, and Sawson, Ophelia.

The quote was right there under her picture.

It's a beautiful fucking day.

Heather went outside with Veronica's yearbook, went down the street to her grave.

She took the time to admire the warm weather and sunny skies.

It's a beautiful fucking day, indeed, Ver, she thought as she put the yearbook into a plastic baggie and threw it onto Veronica's grave.

“I got all the signatures you wanted, including Ms. Fleming’s. It really is a beautiful fucking day, but you fucking left me here so I can't enjoy it,” she yelled to her girlfriend’s grave.

Heather swore to the very day she died that she'd heard a quiet “How very,” from the right, but when she turned, nobody was there.


End file.
